


Rooftops and Mourning

by twirlingflurry



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Panic Attacks, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Trauma, and then he panics, its just a short angsty fic, neil wants to run, rooftop times, um i guess like
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-04
Updated: 2021-02-04
Packaged: 2021-03-15 16:14:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 944
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29192136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twirlingflurry/pseuds/twirlingflurry
Summary: “Take me to the rooftop,” Neil requested, interrupting the silence.Andrew said nothing, but he spun the car around with a reckless jerk of the wheel and sped back the way they came. Satisfied that they were headed back to Palmetto, Neil continued to watch the blur of the streetlights as they raced along the highway.orNeil isn't as fine as he thinks on the anniversary of his mother's death
Relationships: Neil Josten/Andrew Minyard
Comments: 8
Kudos: 110





	Rooftops and Mourning

“Take me to the rooftop,” Neil requested, interrupting the silence. 

Andrew said nothing, but he spun the car around with a reckless jerk of the wheel and sped back the way they came. Satisfied that they were headed back to Palmetto, Neil continued to watch the blur of the streetlights as they raced along the highway.

The all-consuming urge to run had faded thanks to Andrew taking Neil out for a drive without question, but Neil’s body was still tense and on edge. He didn’t need to chase the horizon or feel the thrum of the car beneath him anymore that night. The promise of home was present in the man next to him and the familiar landmarks of the road, and the permanency wasn’t as stifling as it had been earlier that day.

Neil knew that he should explain the nervous energy that radiated off of him, but he couldn’t force the words past the knot in his throat, so they continued to sit in silence all the way back to Fox Tower.

Only once Andrew had left the car did Neil move. With numb fingers, he opened his door and fell into step beside Andrew. His eyelids were heavy as they walked towards the Tower and trudged up the steps until they reached the top. A couple jiggles of the handle gave them access to their off-limits safe haven.

Neil paused beyond the doorway and looked up at the sky. A few stars strained to be seen through the wispy clouds and the light pollution. He buried his hands in his pockets and wandered over to Andrew, who sat at the edge of the roof. Neil lowered himself next to Andrew and wordlessly accepted the pre-lit cigarette offered to him. 

Out of habit, he held the cigarette below his nose and let the scent waft up to him in the night air.

The smell of smoke and fire and burnt flesh.

His breathing sped up, and the air was stifling and it was too dark and he was sitting on cold sand and there was a knife carving his skin and he couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t-

“Neil,” someone said to his right. Neil flinched violently and scrambled to get away. The man let out a curse, and an iron grip caught hold of his hoodie, yanking him backwards. Sprawled out of the hard ground in the dark, or the wet sand, or a basement floor, Neil reached for a knife, a gun, anything.

Distantly, he heard someone speaking, but it didn’t matter. He had to get away. His shoes desperately searched for purchase on the ground, but then there was a hand gripping his arm and he fought to defend himself, to escape, to run.

“No,” he gasped out desperately as he struggled.

The grip on his skin vanished instantly.

He hauled himself to his feet and stumbled backwards with rapid steps.

“Neil.”

It was too dark and his heartrate was skyrocketing and it still smelled like smoke and death and danger.

“Neil.”

A pair of hazel eyes glinted a few breaths from his face. Neil met their searching stare.

“Your name is Neil Josten,” the man in front of him said. “You’re at Palmetto State University, on top of Fox Tower. Come back to me.”

Neil blinked. “Andrew.”

The tension in Andrew’s broad shoulder eased a fraction. Carefully, he reached out a hand and placed it on the back of Neil’s neck. “Neil.”

With a shaky breath, he relaxed ever so slightly into the comforting grip and let his eyes map out Andrew’s familiar face in the shadow of darkness the night sky cast. The intense gaze never left his face, and Neil wasn’t in any rush to break the eye contact.

“I…” Neil trailed off, unsure of how to continue. Andrew watched him, unwavering, but didn’t say anything to prompt or dissuade him. Neil tried again.

“I didn’t mean to scare you,” he said, lamely.

Andrew was unimpressed. “What happened?”

Neil looked away and steeled himself, drawing strength from the hand at his neck that was acting as a tether to the world. “Today’s the anniversary of my mom’s death. I… didn’t think it would be anything I couldn’t handle. I thought I’d be fine.”

Andrew scoffed and fractionally tightened his grip on Neil’s neck. Neil gave him a weak, guilty smile.

“I’m sorry for… that,” Neil continued, gesturing vaguely. “Like I said, I didn’t mean to scare you. The smoke and the dark and… I don’t know.”

After a beat of pause, Andrew said, “Don’t apologize.”

Neil raised his eyebrows slightly, bemused, and said, “Okay.” Then, “Thank you. For letting go when I asked you to.”

“Don’t thank me.”

Neil smiled and raised a hand, an unspoken question. When Andrew nodded his approval, Neil knotted his fingers in the fabric of Andrew’s dark hoodie and moved closer to the heat radiating off of him. Andrew tugged Neil’s head down so that their foreheads touched. A weight was lifted off of Neil’s chest, and he could breathe almost normally again. They stood there under the moonlight and the stars in the rapidly cooling air.

An eternity of comfort and mingled breaths later, Neil whispered, “I miss her.”

Andrew pursed his lips. “I know.”

“I’m not sorry she’s dead,” Neil said, barely loud enough to be heard over the faint wind.

Andrew pulled Neil closer, pressing their bodies together. “That’s okay.”

“I feel like I should,” Neil murmured, gripping Andrew’s hoodie tighter and burying his face into his shoulder. “Be sorry, I mean. Mourn her.”

Andrew pressed a brief kiss to Neil’s hair. “No one mourns the wicked.”

**Author's Note:**

> this was a song prompt! i put my music on shuffle and used the first line of the first song for the starting phrase, and the first line of the second song for the last phrase. the lyrics were too perfect not to do an andreil fic, so this happened. i wasn't originally going to post it, but i changed my mind and here we are. thank you for reading!


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